


Pride and Desire

by ellahaha



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Dreams, F/M, Romance, The Fade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-17 21:56:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21950335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellahaha/pseuds/ellahaha
Summary: “You’re mistaken,” he says to Ellana’s retreating back, “I have no desire you can fulfill.”In which Solas dreams and desires. Angst. Angst. Angst.
Relationships: Dalish (Dragon Age: Inquisition)/Solas, Female Inquisitor & Solas, Female Lavellan/Solas, Lavellan & Solas
Kudos: 23





	Pride and Desire

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a huge sucker for the "desire demon shows character what they REALLY want" subgenre of Dragon Age fics. They always manage to wring every ounce of angst or lust out of a character. This is light on the lust, but I needed an excuse to write some angst. Forgive me if the lore is wonky, I'm just here for the pain.

Solas wakes as he sleeps. The Fade is as familiar to him as his own magic, so as he opens his eyes and sees morning sunlight streaming in through an unfamiliar window, he knows where he truly is. 

He lays on his side and his body is tangled in a worn-down wool blanket. He blinks not-sleep out of his eyes and surveys his surroundings. It’s not Skyhold or Haven or any of the many places he’s lived. This is someone’s home. He turns onto his back. At the base of the bed is a wooden crib, and inside a small shape swaddled in fabric breathes deep and slow.

He looks to his left and of course someone is there and of course _she_ is there. Her face is bare and she sleeps more elegantly than she does in the waking world, her mouth relaxed and her eyebrows placid. 

Solas sighs. Ellana stirs and her eyes flutter open. They are not Fade-green, but wholly and deeply hers, and when she looks at him they slide from sleepy confusion to familiar love.

“Morning,” she mutters, and it’s both effortlessly sensual and domestic at once. She snuggles closer to him, a warm hand trailing lazily down his bare chest.

It would be easy to pretend. The last time he spoke with _his_ Ellana **,** she screamed and shoved him and it was the least he deserved. But of course, that Ellana is now no more his than this one is.

Solas pushes her hand off his chest and slides upright into a sitting position. “I have no interest in tricks or deals,” Solas says, “you’ll find no soul for the taking here.”

Ellana pauses for a beat, her expression frozen. Then a smile, wide and toothy, rips across her face. As she blinks, he can see the veneer of Ellana shimmer and reveal the desire demon underneath, like a cloud shrouding the sun.

“Too routine?” It says jovially. “I’ve seen your mind, I should have known better than to treat you like a normal man.” The Ellana-demon sits upright, the blanket slipping away to reveal her bare chest. Solas averts his eyes instinctively. “Ah - I know what you really desire,” it says and snaps its fingers. 

The room melts around him, like water splashed on a wet mural, the colors drained and dripping. A brilliant green light flashes, and he squints. When he opens his eyes again, he is standing amidst grass and rocks, and above him a rift flares and spasms. Ellana stands underneath it, her trembling arm raised above her head. Drenched in the green light of the Fade, she is otherworldly. She strains, but remains calm. She clenches her hand into a fist and slashes her arm away from the rift. It shatters out of existence, leaving a deep night sky in its place.

She releases a low “ha!” in triumph, simultaneously undoing his wrongs and undermining his goals. Ellana turns to Solas, her breath coming in heavy. A sheen of sweat in visible on her brow. Her whole body thrums with magic and she’s so brilliantly alive. She grins and laughs unabashedly, and from the feeling in his chest he knows his heart is shattered just like the rift.

Solas turns away from her.

“Poor damaged not-god, who can never be happy,” the Ellana-demon purrs, “I know what you desire.”

The sands beneath his feet speed away, replaced with the solid stone of the Skyhold’s battlements. It’s nighttime, and he is alone. The cool, pure air stings his nostrils as he breathes. A chirp of laughter catches his ear, quiet and intimate. Ellana and Cullen walk together, talking in low voices and leaning against each other with their hands locked. ****

As they pass Solas, she flashes him a warm smile and nods. He’s studied her expressions in every waking and sleeping moment well enough to recognize the cordial, impersonal warmth she affects for everyone. The moment is gone, and she turns her face back to Cullen. Handsome, devoted Cullen who will worship the ground she walks on and treat her right. Who would not destroy her heart just to shield his own. 

“You’re mistaken,” he says to Ellana’s retreating back, “I have no desire you can fulfill.”

Ellana stops and throws back her head in frustration. Solas summons some of his power, not enough to hurt, but enough to announce his control. The illusion of the battlements ripple like a mirage.

Itslashes an unmarred hand through the air and Cullen disappears. The demon huffs and turns around, shedding Ellana’sskin as it does so. “Very well. I know better than to stay where my skills are unappreciated,” it cocks its head to the side, “though we both know you’re _full_ of desires.” A wind blows across his mind, gentle but cold. With it, a captured memory - of a waterfall, of his hands on her soft skin, of her face so trusting.

He throws up his power now at full force and the demon shrieks as the dream rips apart. He closes his eyes, and when he opens them the desire demon is gone and he’s standing in inky blackness. He closes them again, and when he opens them, he’s staring at his desk in Skyhold. From his stiff neck and heavy eyes, he knows he’s truly awake this time. He’s slumped over in his chair, his body already protesting his awkward sleeping position.

Despite the pain, Solas finds himself unwilling to move. His mind wants to race down the same worn path again and again, and he forces his focus on the slow breathing of his chest. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Methodical. Mechanical. Unyielding and with no connotations. 

When his thoughts still return to a moonlit waterfall, he stands up suddenly, his joints cracking. He snatches up the parchment on his desk and briskly walks out of his room. If he can’t meditate, he can at least be too busy to think.

Sometime later, he finds himself standing over Josephine’s desk, pouring over translated texts the ambassador hopes contained treaties. He takes great care in explanations and teachings. They command his attention and fill his mind. 

That is, until the door to Josephine’s office opens and the Inquisitor strides in, her face turned away to shout at someone over her shoulder.

“Riiiight,” she laughs, “We’ll see. Josie,” Ellana says, turning her head forward, “Can you settle some-”

Ellana stops in her stride, eyes locked on Solas. Her smile drips off her face, replaced with hard eyes and a crinkled nose. It’s hurt, anger, disgust and pain he sees. Reserved only for him. Exactly what he wanted.

He straightens up and gives a small bow to Josephine. “Thank you for your time, I will leave you to your other duties.” If she notices how quickly the words spill out of his mouth, she doesn’t react. 

He’s barely crossed through the door when he hears the two women speaking in whispers.

“Ellana…” Josephine begins.

“Don’t,” Ellana cuts her off. “Please, don’t.” Her voice is wet. Solas shuts the door between them. He walks slowly toward Skyhold’s library. He reminds himself with each step that it’s for the best and he doesn’t care. By the time he reaches his destination, he just might believe that again. 


End file.
